29 January 2016

Star Sign

You know, I don’t really care what your Astrogenic 
‘star sign’ throws into the wind, it is a scene where 
whatever I am is disgraced by analogy in terms of 
failed appreciation of the ebulliently natural vitality 
these mad dashes generate - that I’m somewhere 
else in a sense of grasping the precious moment; 
yeah for sure - wearing a flack vest when the shit 
hits the fan tells long of that be-fraught history 

Yet I can dance in the breeze without a thought - 
you won’t see it as the same expression - not for 
the reasons of a whim and a prayer; there’s only 
your way to tend the conflagration when an urge 
witlessly wears caution silent & the moment’s all 
you need to show that proof’s reincarnation 
© 21 October 2015, I. D. Carswell